


Sabbatical

by emeraldorchids



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Babies, Childbirth, F/F, Female Friendship, Pregnancy, Surgery, Surprises, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-04
Updated: 2016-06-04
Packaged: 2018-07-12 07:17:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7091188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emeraldorchids/pseuds/emeraldorchids
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miranda is pregnant and takes a sabbatical, with Andrea's assistance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sabbatical

_December - Paris, France_

 

Andrea sighed. For a moment, she was so close, so sure the older woman would end up crying in her arms. It broke her heart, watching her construct her walls so quickly. She wanted to comfort her so badly, but Miranda only wanted her to do her _job_.

Without a second thought, she pulled out her phone and sent a text to Christian: _See you at Chez Lorraine at 19:00. -Andy_

The next morning was, in a word, rough. Between oversleeping, realizing Christian’s betrayal, then Miranda’s dismissal and subsequent betrayal, her head was pounding and she just wanted to get through the last show.

When Miranda turned to her in the taxi and started talking, she was only half listening, until she heard something that made her ears perk up.

“I’m sorry, what?” Andrea asked.

Miranda rolled her eyes, then repeated what she said. “I see a great deal of myself in you, but I think you are probably better at keeping it together than I am.”

“Oh, Miranda, I doubt that…”

“No, you are,” Miranda said. “I want to apologize for my behavior last night. It was unprofessional to…dear god, I’m going to start crying again.”

Andrea gently chewed on her lip. This conversation was headed into uncharted territory, and she wasn’t sure she was prepared.

“Yesterday was the worst day of my life,” she began, reaching into her handbag for a tissue to dab her eyes with.

“If it makes you feel any better, everyone already thinks Stephen is a jerk and doesn’t treat you well,” Andrea said, finally reaching her hand out.

Miranda smiled and squeezed the young woman’s hand. “He is, isn’t he? It’s not just the divorce, though. It’s—” she paused and again squeezed the young woman’s hand. “Can I trust you to not repeat a word of what I am about to say?” she asked.

“Of course,” Andrea said, suddenly worried.

Miranda closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m six weeks pregnant,” she said. “Stephen doesn’t know. I had an appointment yesterday morning—I thought it would be easier to take care of it here, not in the States, but I couldn’t go through with it.”

“Oh, Miranda, I can’t even imagine,” she said, squeezing her hand tightly and reaching out for the woman’s shoulder with her other hand. “What can I do to help you?”

The woman shook her head. “I don’t know. It is a relief to be able to talk about it with someone, even. I can’t raise Stephen’s child, but I don’t know what else to do, unless I just disappear for nine months,” she said.

“I can arrange that if it’s what you want,” Andrea said quietly. “You’d just say you’re taking a year sabbatical.”

“I wouldn’t be able to see my girls.”

“Well, you could Skype them regularly, and you could probably go on a vacation with them before they go back to school in the fall,” Andrea said. “Would James be okay with them staying with him full-time?”

Miranda rolled her eyes. “He would love it. What would I say I’m taking a sabbatical to do, though? Something that would require me to be so isolated.”

“Writing a book?” Andrea suggested.

“I suppose after nine months, everyone would be expecting a book release, wouldn’t they?”

“It doesn’t have to be a memoir or anything personal. You’d get a contract with no problem—people will buy whatever you write.”

“And why should I presume you know all of this information?” Miranda asked.

“I spent a summer as an intern at HarperCollins.”

“Oh. I guess I should have known that.”

“If you’re sure that you want to see this pregnancy out, I can begin making arrangements for you right away. However, I think it would be wise to find a doctor who would be able to make home visits to check in on you as needed. Do you have a preference on the location?”

“No. But wait—before you make any plans, I need to think this through.”

“Understood,” Andrea said, pulling her hands back into her lap. “Take your time. I think it would make the most sense for you to step away on the first of the year, so we have a few weeks. Whatever you need—even if it’s just someone to think aloud in front of—I’m here.”

“Thank you, Andrea.”

 

* * *

 

_December 23rd - New York, New York_

 

“And then Leslee will issue the press release as soon as you talk to Irv, okay?”

Miranda took a deep breath and nodded. “Nigel is thrilled about it. I was worried he wouldn’t buy the idea that I want to take some time off to work on a book, but it seems after Paris, well, he isn’t very concerned about me at all.”

“Well, that probably works in your favor—professionally, that is. How are the girls?”

Miranda’s shoulders tensed. “They don’t understand, and I can’t blame them, really.” How could she expect her nine-year-old daughters to understand? They asked why she couldn’t write her book at night after work, or why they couldn’t see her over spring break. “What if it doesn’t work out?”

“The pregnancy or the cover-up?” Andrea snapped.

“Sometimes I regret telling you anything—ever!” Miranda cried, running to the bathroom.

Andrea waited a few minutes, and when she heard the crying soften on the other side of the door, she knocked gently. “Miranda? I’m sorry.”

“You’re judging me—for hiding. You think I’m a coward for running away from my career, my family. You think think I should have terminated in Paris,” she said.

“No, Miranda, that’s not true. Please, lets talk about this somewhere else, in private.”

“Later,” Miranda said, opening the bathroom door and marching out. “I need to meet with Irv now. Then, I’m spending the day with my daughters tomorrow. Presuming all goes well with Irv, we are still on schedule for first thing Monday morning in the new year.”

Andrea hung her head and nodded. “Please believe me, Miranda, I am not judging. I can only imagine what you’re going through. I know it’s cliche, but I support your decisions, whatever they may be.”

“I know that, Andrea, I do. I’m incredibly emotional right now and—I’m going to be late for my meeting with Irv,” she said, adjusting her blazer and marching out of the office.

Later that night, when her girls were asleep and she had finished wrapping a few Christmas presents, she picked up the phone and dialed Andrea.

“Hello, Miranda,” she answered on the first ring, as if she was expecting the call.

Miranda smirked and sank back into her pillow. “Hello, Andrea. Did I wake you?” she asked, glancing over at the clock and seeing it was nearly midnight.

“No, I was up. I was hoping you’d call, actually. I feel terrible about earlier—”

“It’s okay,” Miranda interrupted. “I have been rather…emotional. I don’t remember it like this with the girls, but then again, I was so nauseous all the time, I don’t remember much of anything.”

“Oh, wow. But you’re feeling okay now?”

“Aside from the daily crying spells, yes, I am feeling great. My lawyer said the divorce should be finalized in sixty days or so, and, well,” she paused and took a deep breath. “I can’t stop thinking about how much easier this would all be if I just…never mind.”

Andrea waited for a moment, unsure of whether the woman would continue. “Did you want another child after the girls were born?”

“No. The girls were such a handful when they were babies, and then James and I separated. Stephen didn’t want children, go figure.”

“But, did _you_ want another child?” Andrea asked.

“Of course I did. But I also wanted to bring a child into a loving home. James and I were so lucky—one of us was always there with them until they were three or four. I could never do that again.”

“Oh I’m sure—sorry.”

“You know, I’ve never terminated a pregnancy. I don’t know why I thought I’d be able to do it in Paris,” she said. After a short silence, she said, “I know what you’re thinking. There were two miscarriages before the girls.”

“I’m sorry. That must have been difficult.”

“Thank you.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, the quiet sound of breathing echoing through the phone.

“I should let you get to sleep. You have a flight out in the morning, right?” Miranda asked.

“Yes, but it’s fine. Is there anything else you need from me? I mean, I’ll have my phone on me in Ohio, but I won’t be able to run errands or anything.”

“Honey, it’s Christmas. I don’t need anything, and if I do, I am perfectly capable of getting it myself. Enjoy your time with family, and we’ll speak when you return.”

“Okay, thanks. Merry Christmas, Miranda.”

“Thanks, you too, Andrea.”

 

* * *

 

_January - New York, New York_

 

“The car will be here in the morning, and I’ll make sure you have a hard copy of the directions. I’ve already seen that the GPS on your phone and on the car are turned off. The destination is fully stocked with just about anything you might need, and I’ll come up once a month to check in and bring you anything else. You will have the car if you need to leave for any reason. If you need to contact me, we both have secure lines—that’s the Blackberry—that _Runway_ will not have access to. Oh, and your new AOL email address should work just fine if you need to reach me or anyone else regarding a personal matter,” Andrea said.

Miranda took a sip from her cup of tea and looked up at Andrea across her kitchen table. “I can’t believe I’m actually doing this…”

Andrea smiled warmly and changed the subject. “Have you decided what you’re going to write yet?”

“No. I’ll probably end up getting a ghostwriter after six months of staring at a blank page,” she said.

“You know, I can do that for you,” Andrea said.

Miranda’s eyes widened. Was there anything this girl couldn’t do, she wondered. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said.

“Okay, well, I’ll let you get some rest and finish packing. Call me if you think of anything, and please let me know when you arrive,” Andrea said.

“I will,” Miranda said, watching as the young woman walked out of her kitchen. She dreaded what she had to do next, but reminded herself it was in everyone’s best interest. Dialing James’ phone number, she held her breath.

“Hello?”

“James, hi, it’s me.”

“Having second thoughts?” he asked, chuckling.

“Of course I am. You know this isn’t easy for me,” Miranda said. Her voice cracked and she bit her lip. “I would like to see the girls once more before I leave, but I don’t want them to have to rearrange their schedules or anything.”

“And you leave tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“So you want to see them tonight? You know, they go back to school tomorrow, and I want to be sure they get a good night’s rest,” he said. Miranda couldn’t help but think about what a wonderful father he is. “You won’t rile them up or upset them, right?”

“No, nothing like that. I was thinking about something quiet, maybe watching a movie,” she said.

“Okay. We’re going to be sitting down to dinner in a few minutes. I’ll put them on the phone and you can ask them yourself, but assuming they say yes, would you want to come by around 6:30 and just watch something here?”

“Oh, at your place?”

“Yeah, I actually have a few errands to run, so I would be out of your hair,” he said. “And the girls still aren’t fully settled here, so it might be nice for you to help them feel comfortable. The last thing I want is for them to go back to your place, only to have to leave again.”

Miranda thought about that for a minute. “Fair enough. I can’t say that I’m entirely comfortable at your place either, but I agree it would be best.”

“Great. Let me go get them and you can ask yourself… Girls? Your mom’s on the phone.”

“Hey Mom!” Caroline said.

“Hi Mommy!” Cassidy said. Miranda could imagine their faces pressed together as they shared the phone.

“Hi my darlings. What do you think about having one last movie night before you go back to school tomorrow? That way I can see your beautiful faces again and give you hugs and kisses and—”

“Yes!” they both shouted.

“Oh good. I was thinking I would come over to dad’s after you finish dinner—maybe around 6:30. He has some errands to run, so I thought we could just watch a movie there, maybe make some popcorn. Sound good?”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” Caroline said.

“Can you come over for dinner, too?” Cassidy asked.

“Oh no, sweetheart. I have a few things I need to do around the house, but I’ll be over soon, okay? Pick out a movie you think I’ll like,” she added.

“Okay, Mom. Bye!”

“Bye, see you soon!” she said, blowing a kiss into the phone.

Later that evening, Miranda was curled up on the couch and struggling to keep her tears away. Her arm was draped around Cassidy, who was curled up against her, and Caroline was laying down with her head in Miranda’s lap. She would miss this—they were growing up so quickly, and she hated the thought of being away from them but saw no other option. She couldn’t burden them with having to keep secrets for her.

Miranda bent down and kissed Cassidy on the top of the head, and Cassidy, in turn, snuggled more closely into her, wrapping her arm around her mother’s waist. Miranda felt a flutter in her abdomen and immediately recognized it as the baby’s first movements. Trying to distract herself from that, she hugged Cassidy closer and gently ran her fingers through Caroline’s hair as she returned her eyes to the TV.

 

* * *

 

_January - Somewhere in the Poconos, New York_

 

Late the next morning, Miranda pulled up the winding driveway and checked Andrea’s handwritten directions several times to confirm she was in the right place. When the young woman described it as “a cabin in the Poconos,” she imagined a tiny, two-room log cabin style house. This was really just the opposite—a modern two-story home with floor-to-ceiling windows, a large porch overlooking the valley, and a basement that walks out to a large swimming pool. There was a three-car detached garage, and it looked like there was a smaller structure beyond the garage that could have been a shed or an apartment.

She carried her bags to the porch, then put the car in the garage. It was very smart of Andrea to purchase a used Lexus SUV for this purpose. It was still a nice car, but practical enough that anyone living in a home like this could afford. Inside, she was pleasantly surprised to find little touches of home everywhere. Andrea had made copies of many of Miranda’s favorite photos of the girls, stocked the bookshelves with some of her favorite books, as well as some classics and new bestsellers. Another case was dedicated entirely to back issues of _Runway_. In the living room, she spotted a leather sectional with built-in recliners and new she would be spending most of her time there.

The first floor consisted of the foyer, a small bathroom, the kitchen, a small office nook, and the living room. Upstairs, there was an impressive master suite, as well as a spare bedroom that was more of a den, and a laundry room. In the basement was a sort of rec room with a large flat-screen television, an area with a treadmill and stationary bike, a temperature-controlled wine storage, and a built-in cedar sauna. This was really an incredible house, and Miranda was already feeling less anxious about the next nine months.

 

Andrea received a text that morning from Miranda: _Arrived and settled. The house is nice. -M_

She smiled and laughed to herself. In Miranda-speak, that means she was impressed. She sent a quick note back, then jumped in the shower. Nigel wasn’t Miranda, but that didn’t mean he was any less of a demanding boss.

 

Several weeks later, Andrea looked at all of the bags in the trunk of her rental car. How could the woman have “forgotten” so much stuff? Shaking her head, she shut the trunk and took a seat behind the wheel. _Leaving now. I have everything you requested, plus some groceries and paperwork from EC. Anything else? -A_

Miranda quickly replied: _An overnight bag for yourself? Forecast calls for snow. -M_

Andrea chuckled to herself and started the car, confident that she had already packed a bag. She didn’t want to get ahead of herself, but over the past few weeks, her relationship with Miranda had changed significantly; they were almost—she hesitated to think it—friends.

When she arrived at the house, Miranda came out on the porch to greet her, and she was surprised to see the editor’s visible baby bump.

“Hi, how are you?” Andrea said, walking up to her and hugging her lightly.

Miranda returned the hug and squeezed Andrea’s hand. “I’m good. Can I help you bring some things inside?”

“Absolutely not,” Andrea said. “You can hold the door for me, though,” she added with a smile before running back to the car to unload the trunk.

Once they were settled, Miranda made a light lunch and asked the young woman a lot of questions about _Runway,_ Nigel, and just New York City in general.

“Actually,” Andrea said nervously, “I did want to talk to you about something else. Um, I think Nigel will have to make some staff cuts, and I am not sure how much longer I will have a job, so um…”

Miranda stared at her wide-eyed. “Are you serious?”

“Yes. Look, I will still be here for you, but I will need to find another job, so I can’t guarantee that I will be able to drop everything,” she said, looking down at her hands in her lap. “I’m sorry—I know the timing is not ideal.”

“How much do we pay you?” 

“Salary?”

“Yes.”

“Um, $35,000 plus benefits. Why?”

Miranda rolled her eyes. “Irv is just doing this to get back at me. It makes no sense financially to eliminate the youngest, lowest-paid employees,” she said. “I have an idea. You can decline, but just hear me out. Leave _Runway_ and I will employ you personally. For the next eight months—February through September—I’ll pay you $35,000, plus your health insurance premiums, and room  & board if you choose to stay here. In October, you could either return to _Runway_ with me, all things pending, or I’m sure I could help you find something else,” she said. “What do you think?”

“That’s very generous, and significantly more than I’m currently making. Don’t take this the wrong way, but what’s the catch? What’s the actual job?” the young woman asked.

“Well, you’d have to put up with me, during the second and third trimesters I might add. I can’t promise to be nice.”

Andrea smiled. “That’s no problem. What would you need me to do, though?”

“Well, if you’re really bored, we can work on my book, but I really just want company more than once a month. The past few weeks were driving me crazy,” she said. “I sleep a lot, and I like to do my own laundry and cooking and light housework because it keeps me active. I’d need help discreetly arranging for the adoption and everything, but that wouldn’t take too much time. You would have a lot of free time to do whatever you’d like.”

She took a deep breath, and replied, “Okay, I’ll do it,” she said with a smile. “Can I tell Nigel tomorrow? I think he’ll actually be relieved he won’t have to fire me.”

Miranda nodded.

“And not to change the subject, but have you had a chance to review the midwives I sent over? Now that you’re what, fourteen or so weeks along, it’s probably important to—”

“I know,” she said, interrupting her. “And thank you for looking into all that. I think Mary would be a good fit, but I’d like the opportunity to talk to her on the phone—can you arrange that?”

“Absolutely. Mary wasn’t too far away, either. With her credentials, she can write you prescriptions, order lab tests, and basically ensure you and the baby are staying healthy,” she explained. “Plus, she’s delivered hundreds of babies at home.”

Miranda nodded. At first, she was opposed to the idea of a stranger coming every other week, but now she would actually welcome the support. “Did you catch whether she had any experience with adoption?”

“No, but Mary was willing to figure out whatever needs to happen. She does have some experience with surrogate mothers, which is the closest we’re going to find, I think. I’ll check with the lawyer to see what else might be needed.”

“No—I will do that. When do you think you will move up here?” she asked, changing the subject. “I can send Nigel a note and try to work some relocation expenses into your severance package from Elias Clarke.”

“Where would I stay? I don’t have any furniture—my apartment is furnished. I think I’m on a month-to-month lease this calendar year, so theoretically, I could move up here at the end of the week.”

“That works. It’s up to you. There’s the spare bedroom on the second floor, or the gatehouse behind the garage is actually very quaint.”

“Oh, umm…”

Sensing the young woman’s hesitation, Miranda chimed in. “Actually, why don’t you plan on moving into the gatehouse. I’ll clean it up this week. Then, if it makes more sense for you to be staying here in the house, you can always do that, too.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. Great, that’s settled. Are you hungry for lunch?” Just as Andrea was about to answer, Miranda’s cell phone chimed. “Oh, excuse me—the girls wanted to Skype this afternoon. That’s them.”

“I’ll put something together for lunch while you talk to them,” Andrea said. “And I’ll be quiet.”

Miranda nodded and headed over to the desk, arranging herself in front of her laptop as the call came through.

“Hi Mom!” they both said.

“My babies, it’s so good to see you and hear you. Tell me everything—how did school go this week?”

Andrea couldn’t help but smile as she listened to the woman catching up with her daughters. She was such a great mother, Andrea struggled to understand how she could give up this baby so easily. Then again, no one said it was easy.

 

* * *

 

_mid-March - somewhere in the Poconos, New York_

 

“How is the dizziness? Any better?” Andrea asked, sitting on the coffee table in front of the couch where Miranda had spent the better part of the morning.

“No. I was a little queasy last night and this morning—I think it’s just dehydration,” she said.

“Okay, I’m going to bring you something to drink, and then I’m just going to check with the clinic to see if they can take you when the snow lets up.”

“Andrea, I am not seeing a doctor. Mary is coming by tomorrow.”

“I know,” she said. “But there’s a free emergency clinic in one of these tiny towns up here, and I don’t think they make you show ID or anything. That’s what I want to check on.”

“Surely they’d recognize me.”

Andrea rolled her eyes.

“It’s not an emergency, Andrea. I will not take that risk, not after all I’ve already given up to keep this secret.”

“What if there’s something wrong with the baby?”

“He’s fine. I have felt him moving around all morning.”

“But you look like hell today! Your face is pale and swollen, and you can’t even stand onyour feet without falling over.”

“Why are you being so mean to me?” Miranda whined.

Andrea took a deep breath and counted to ten. The older woman had a point—she wasn’t exactly being nice. “I’m sorry. I am just nervous. If something happens to you, or to the baby, it’s my fault.”

“That isn’t true,” Miranda said. “Look, I have four more months to go, and I can’t have you panicking over little things.”

“That’s just it, you don’t really even know how far along you are. You said you’re at twenty-two weeks, but even Mary guessed that you were farther along. For all we know, you could be at thirty-five, or you could be having twins!”

“Fine, Andrea, I don’t have the energy to argue about this. Why don’t you call the clinic and see if they will give you any sort of medical advice over the phone. I’m going to have something to drink, and then I’m going to go lie down upstairs. Help me up,” she said.

The young woman helped her up, then wrapped her arms around her, hugging her softly. “I’m sorry for not trusting you. I know you’ll let me know if something doesn’t feel right. Do you want me to hang around here this afternoon?”

“I am going straight up to bed after this,” she said, pointing at the glass of juice on the kitchen island. “But you are welcome to be wherever you’d like.”

“Okay. I’m going to stick around here in case there’s anything else you need. I’ll work on the list for the store next week, too.”

Miranda waved her hand as she finished the glass of juice. She put the glass in the dishwasher, carefully balancing against the counter as she leaned over. She could feel Andrea’s eyes on her as she headed towards the stairs.

“Andrea, stop staring and just come walk with me upstairs,” she said, rolling her eyes.

The young woman was quickly at her side, reaching for her hand as she led her up to the bedroom. Miranda crawled onto the bed, and Andrea helped rearrange the pillows so she could be comfortable.

Miranda sighed and closed her eyes. “Now, are you okay?”

“Yes,” Andrea said quietly. “I am sorry for upsetting you. You look as beautiful as ever today—I was just worried.”

The editor chuckled. “I am feeling a little better now—I think the juice helped,” she said.

“Oh, good. I’m, uh, just going to go downstairs. Let me know if you need anything,” she added. “Rest well.”

 

* * *

 

_mid-April - somewhere in the Poconos, New York_

 

Miranda groaned as Mary massaged her lower back. “I wish you could do this everyday,” she said.

“Now, sugar, you’ve just got few months left—you are almost there. Andy here could rub your back for you when I’m not here,” she said.

Miranda groaned again. “She already does enough for me—I could never ask her to do something so personal.”

“I think it would be wise to have her here when we’re practicing some childbirth techniques. It will be one less thing for you to remember while you’re waiting for me to arrive. I’ve warned you how quickly labor can progress with a second pregnancy.”

“Yes, and Braxton Hicks will be stronger and there’s the dangers about of a vaginal birth after a Cesarean, I know, I know,” Miranda said.

Mary laughed. “I guess you’ve been listening to me!” She pulled away and the editor groaned at the loss of contact. “How has the heartburn been?”

“Manageable, I guess. I am eating Tums like candy, drinking milk, eating really small meals. I had this with the girls, too. Did you say you would need to adjust our schedule?”

“Yes,” she said, pulling out her pocket calendar. “Let’s see, today is the 16th. I’ll be back in two weeks on the 30th as planned, but then for the third trimester I was hoping to come by once per week. Would you mind if we switched to Wednesdays?”

“No, that’s fine. My calendar is wide open. So, when do you think my due date is?”

“It’s hard to tell. You said you remember your last menstrual period being sometime in October, so you’d be looking at mid- to late-July, about three months from today,” Mary said. “But I am getting the feeling that you’re going to go early.”

“That wouldn’t be the worst thing,” Miranda said as she struggled to make herself comfortable on the couch.

“Now, you have my cell phone number and my home number. I can be here within 45 minutes, but you have to call me the minute you start feeling something, okay?” Mary said, softly putting her hands on Miranda’s belly.

“Yes, I will,” she said. “Meanwhile, why don’t I call Andrea over so you can show her how to do that massage thing.”

Mary laughed as Miranda reached for her phone and sent a quick text. “I do want you to be prepared, Miranda. If there are complications, you will absolutely need to go to the hospital. I will do everything in my power to keep you here, but not at the risk of your health,” she said.

“I realize that. I was thinking of coloring my hair beforehand—just in case, so I would be less recognizable,” Miranda said.

“That’s a good idea. You know, I think it’s a boy.”

“We wanted a boy,” she said quietly. “My first husband and I—before the twins.”

Andrea quietly let herself in and joined the women on the sofa. “James wanted a son so badly,” she said, gently tracing her fingers along her belly. “My second, uh, miscarriage—it was a boy. I was at sixteen weeks.”

“I’m so sorry,” Mary said, reaching out and squeezing the woman’s hand. “You’ve been doing so well with this pregnancy, so you should have nothing to worry about. Even if he comes a little early, say at 36 or 37 weeks, I think both mom and baby will be just fine.”

Miranda smiled and squeezed her hand. “Andrea, thank you for joining us. Mary is about to leave, but she was going to show you how to, uh—”

“How to administer what I like to call pressure-point relief therapy. When women are farther along in their pregnancies, the growing baby puts considerable tension on the muscles and ligaments in the lower back, so, through applying direct pressure, here and here,” she said, demonstrating on Miranda’s lower back, “it can help significantly to relieve the pain and discomfort, and even help to re-train the muscles as the baby continues to grow.”

“Oh, okay,” Andrea said, watching intently.

“Here, you try,” Mary said, guiding the young woman’s hands to their place at Miranda’s lower back. “You’ll want to apply direct pressure. Miranda will be pushing back into your hands.”

“Okay, so, how’s this?” she asked, pushing into Miranda’s lower back.

“That’s excellent,” she said. “Sometimes it also helps if you gently massage, kneading with your fingers. Yes, like that.”

“And how often should I do this?” Andrea asked.

“Well, I would say about three to five times per day, but really when Miranda feels up to it,” she said.

“I hope it’s not asking too much, Andrea,” Miranda said. “I didn’t mean to put you on the spot.”

“No, of course not. I am happy to help.”

“Well, I will leave you two for now. I’ll see you in two weeks, but call me if anything else comes up,” Mary said. “I’ll let myself out, you just stay there.”

Once the midwife left, Miranda turned to look at the young woman. “Are you sure you don’t mind all this?”

“Of course I don’t mind. I care about you, and I’m here for whatever you need,” she said, taking her hand and squeezing gently. “Why don’t we recline this chair, and then I will rub your feet while you relax.”

Miranda whimpered at the suggestion. “I’m sorry if I am in need of a pedicure—it’s getting difficult to reach my toes these days.”

“Shh, just relax,” Andrea said. “I’m going to run upstairs and grab some lotion. Oh, one more thing,” she said. “Your divorce was finalized this morning. Congratulations!”

 

The next day, Miranda was sitting at her computer, trying to work on her book when she felt searing heartburn through her chest. She reached for her antacid, and couldn’t help but smile when she felt the baby kick.

“Hey, how’s it going?” Andrea said, taking her by surprise.

“Oh, hi. Um, the book is not going at all. I can’t decide on a topic,” she said. “Caroline and Cassidy want to come visit. It’s all they are talking about. I told them they’ll have to wait until the end of the summer, but they think that’s too long.”

“I can’t imagine how hard that is.”

“For them or for me?”

“Both, really. But I meant for you,” she clarified.

“I think I’m going to talk to James about it tonight,” she said, sitting up and stretching. “Oh, I also wanted you to pickup some semi-permanent hair color—something dark blonde or light brown. If anything happens and I have to go to the hospital, I don’t want to worry about being recognized.”

“Okay, I’ll find something,” she said. “This could be fun. Are you sure you don’t want red?”

“Red never washes out. And red stands out. I want to look plain and nondescript,” she said.

“Oh, no one would ever use those words to describe you,” Andrea said. “But I will get a selection of hair color tomorrow when I go to the store, and we can experiment.”

 

Later that evening, after dinner, Andrea returned to the gatehouse. Miranda decided to take advantage of the privacy and talk to James, so she sent him a text message. _Can you Skype now? Just you—not C & C. -M_

He replied almost instantly. _Sure. Calling now._

She didn’t expect him to answer, let alone call so quickly. She quickly arranged herself at the computer and accepted the call.

“Hi, Miranda, how are you?”

“Good. Thanks for calling. I spent a lot of time thinking today. Are you sure you’re by yourself? The girls won’t walk in?”

“All alone,” he said, getting up and locking the bedroom door. “Why? What’s going on?”

“I was thinking about our first apartment in Brooklyn—before people actually wanted to live there. And about how close we came to having a son. I’m sorry I was never able to give that to you,” she said, wiping her eyes.

“Oh, don’t worry, honey. We have two beautiful daughters I couldn’t love more if I tried.”

“My divorce from Stephen—it’s finalized. But there’s one more thing,” she said as she slowly pushed her chair back and stood in front of the computer, softly running her hands along her belly. “He doesn’t know.”

“Oh my god, Mira, I don’t know what to say. Congratulations? Or I’m sorry? This is why you took a sabbatical, isn’t it?”

Miranda nodded as tears fell down her cheeks. “I didn’t know it would be this hard. I miss the girls so much. I even miss you. I know that probably sounds insane, but you were always there for me when I was pregnant. We wanted a baby so badly.”

Miranda sat down and saw that James was in tears, too. “Miranda, what are you going to do? You can’t give it away—I mean, are you?”

She gently nodded. “That’s the plan. I don’t want to share custody with Stephen, and I don’t know how I would explain things. No one else knows besides you, my midwife, a clinic in Paris, and my assistant Andrea.”

“So you’re just going to come back from your sabbatical as if nothing happened?”

“It won’t be that easy,” she said. “James, I’ve been trying so hard to distract myself, to distance myself from this tiny human growing inside me, but I can’t. It’s selfish of me to give up this child because I don’t want to deal with his father. But now, I don’t know what to do and I’m just petrified.”

“Andrea is there with you, right?”

“Yes.”

“How far along are you?”

“Twenty-six weeks or so. The heartburn is back with a vengeance. I don’t know what to do. I was considering telling the girls.”

“No. I mean, I don’t think it’s a good idea. They’re not old enough to understand why you would do this and give the baby to another family,” he said.

“I suppose you are right.”

“Will you stand up and turn around again, slower this time?”

She nodded.

“Mira, you look amazing, really. Your body—it’s incredible. Can you—I mean, would you—”

“James, I know what you want, and no. It’s not a good idea.”

“Fine,” he said throwing his hands up. “What can I do for you—aside from taking care of the girls?”

“Take the girls’ minds off of seeing me. No sooner than August 1st. Every time they ask to see me sooner, the guilt is unbearable.”

“Consider it done.”

“And it goes without saying, but do not breathe a word to anyone.”

“I know,” he said. “Do you want me to go get the girls so you can say goodnight?”

“No. I’ll text them tonight and call them tomorrow. James, thank you.”

He nodded and ended the call.

 

* * *

 

_Early May - Somewhere in the Poconos, New York_

 

“Andrea? …Andrea? Can you please—oh, never mind!”

“What? What’s wrong?” Andrea said, sprinting up the stairs to Miranda’s room. “I thought you were going to sleep?”

Miranda sat on the edge of the bed looking supremely annoyed. “I was. And I got all comfortable, and then couldn’t reach the light. And you weren’t even around, so,” she paused and huffed, “I had to get up.”

“Okay, I will take care of the light. You can lie back down.”

Miranda groaned and turned back against the pillows.

“Are you going to be okay?” she asked, softly brushing her hand along the woman’s arm. “Want me to rub your back a little?”

“Mmm, if you wouldn’t mind?”

Andrea smiled and climbed up on the other side of the bed and began gently kneading the woman’s muscles through the thin silk nightgown.

The next morning, Andrea woke up and opened her eyes, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. Miranda was snoring lightly, so she knew the editor hadn’t woken yet. She slowly pulled her hand away from its place on the woman’s hip, and she carefully climbed out of bed, tiptoeing downstairs to start some coffee.

She wasn’t sure how she had fallen asleep like that—or more importantly, how Miranda had allowed her to. Regardless, the woman would be none the wiser.

About an hour later, Miranda came downstairs in her robe and sleepily sat at the kitchen table.

“Good morning,” Andrea said. “Juice and yogurt?”

Miranda nodded. “What time did you get up?”

“Oh, about an hour ago.”

“I was sleeping so wonderfully—if I hadn’t needed to get up and pee, I could have slept another six hours!” she said. “I think your magic fingers will need to be a part of my evening ritual.”

Andrea nearly spit out her coffee. “Ma—magic? Me? No, I’m sure your body was just relaxed and needed the rest.”

“But I was relaxed because of that massage. It even put the baby to sleep,” she added. “Whatever you did last night, I want that every night.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Andrea said, setting a glass of juice and bowl of yogurt, berries, and granola down in front of her.

Later that day, Miranda was sitting out on the patio in a lounge chair, thumbing through a magazine while Andrea was working on a freelance assignment she picked up for a small community blog.

Miranda couldn’t stop thinking about the baby, and about how difficult it would be to give the baby up, knowing she would never see him again. She wouldn’t be there to see his first steps or to kiss his boo-boos. She wouldn’t be there for any of that, because that would be long to his new mother, who deserved to raise him without interference.

She sighed and set the magazine down as she laid back on the chair, thinking about how she came to be here, in this place, in these circumstances.

When she took the pregnancy test at home one night, she remembered crying and not knowing why. She didn’t want to have Stephen’s child, but it had been so difficult for her to conceive and carry a pregnancy to term, she figured she would miscarry this one, too. That way, she wouldn’t even have to tell him. The following week in Paris, she was surprised she hadn’t started bleeding yet. Surely, this pregnancy would not go to term. She made the appointment with the clinic during Paris Fashion Week, after spending a considerable amount of time on the bathroom floor, retching into the toilet.

There, they confirmed her pregnancy with a blood test, and explained that termination would be very simple—two pills taken several hours apart, with light cramping. She left the office with the pills, but threw them in a trash bin just outside the office. Then, when she returned to the hotel, the concierge handed her an envelope containing the divorce papers.

The divorce would be a media circus, but the alternative—telling Stephen about the baby and asking him to stay—was practically unimaginable. She was desperate, and when Andrea suggested a sabbatical, it just made sense.

She should have taken those last few weeks before the new year to think it through, but instead, she spent the time with her daughters, with _Runway_ , and doing everything in her power to distract herself from the decision. Now, seven months in, there was no turning back.

“Miranda?”

“Hmm?” she said, turning to look up at the young woman.

“I asked if there was anything you wanted from the kitchen,” she said.

“Oh, um, a glass of lemonade if you’re going in.”

Andrea returned a few minutes later with a Diet Coke for herself and a glass of lemonade for Miranda in an insulated tumbler with a straw and lid, exactly as Miranda likes it. “You were lost in thought before—everything okay?” she asked quietly.

Miranda looked up a the young woman, not sure where she got her boldness, but secretly wanting to let it all out. “I have a lot on my mind. I’m sure you don’t care with the details,” she said. It was a completely natural response from Miranda Priestly, but one she hoped Andrea would challenge.

“I know it’s not my place,” Andrea said, “but I do care about the details. I can see not wanting to talk to your assistant about it, but I also know that you don’t have anyone else right now. You already know you can trust me,” she added.

Miranda sighed and turned to face the other woman. “I don’t think I can give this baby up,” she said.

Andrea’s eyes widened and she walked over and sat down on the side of Miranda’s chair. “Wow, um, okay. Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked, reaching out for the woman’s hands.

Miranda squeezed her hands tightly and shook her head as tears streamed down her cheeks. “I’ve been such a fool, but I can’t exactly tell the truth now. The press would have a field day, and my daughters…I don’t know if my daughters could ever forgive me. And then when Stephen learns, he’d want a paternity test. Oh, Andrea,” she cried, bringing her hand up to cover her face.

“Shhh, it’s going to be okay. We’ll figure something out,” Andrea said, holding her hand tightly and gently holding her shoulder.

“I love my daughters and would never want to hurt them, but I don’t see how I can do this without hurting them,” she said.

“We’ll figure something out. We have time,” she reassured. “We’ll figure it out, even if you have to say it was my baby that you’re adopting!”

“You would do that?”

“If you thought it could help—of course.”

“Andrea, sometimes I think you are too good to me.”

 

* * *

 

_Late May - Somewhere in the Poconos, New York_

 

Miranda was just getting out of bed at 10:30 AM on Monday morning after a fitful night. The baby had been keeping her up at night, and between the heartburn and stabbing pains in her lower back, she hardly slept at all. She sighed and looked through the closet for something comfortable to wear.

Last week, Andrea had picked up some larger, stretchy maternity items from the store, and for once, Miranda was grateful to not have to think about fashion. She put on a loose-fitting black maternity tank top and underwear, and paused to look at her profile in the mirror. She was kind of liking the dark sandy-blonde hair color, and something about wearing it up in a topknot made her feel young, and in need of a haircut. Looking at her arms and thighs, though, she made a mental note to exercise more regularly and take advantage of the indoor treadmill when the weather wasn’t cooperating. She wrapped her extra-large robe around her body and tied the waistband before heading downstairs for half a cup of decaf coffee.

On the coffee maker, she saw a post-it from Andrea: _Didn’t want to wake you — headed out to Walmart for a few things — wanted to be home before the storm gets too bad this afternoon. Call if you need anything. -A_

Miranda looked out the window—it didn’t look particularly stormy, but the temperature was barely 40 degrees Fahrenheit, which was unseasonably cold for this time of year. She made herself a slice of toast with avocado and sat at the kitchen stool with an “oomph.” She took her time drinking her coffee and finishing breakfast, and as she was loading her plate and cup into the dishwasher, she felt a sudden tightness in her belly.

“Oooh!” she exclaimed, leaning against the counter with one hand and smoothing the other over her belly. “Little one, what’s going on in there?” she said.

She walked over to the couch and took a seat with another “oomph,” then turned on the television to watch the news. As it turned out, a major spring thunderstorm was headed for the area, and they were supposed to get a lot of rain, possibly hail, and strong winds within a few hours.

“Oooh!” Again, she felt a sharp pain that seemed to take her breath away. “Look, I know you don’t have a lot of room in there, but kicking me and pressing into my lungs is not helping your situation,” she said, talking to her belly.

Since it was too gloomy outside to do much of anything else and there was nothing interesting on television, she headed upstairs to draw a warm bath for herself. Mary had told her to keep changing positions when she was feeling Braxton Hicks contractions, and last week the warm bath water really did the trick.

Even though the bath water couldn’t be as hot as she liked, soaking in the water relieved a lot of the pressure in her lower back and allowed her to rest comfortably.In order to combat the rapidly cooling water, every fifteen minutes, she drained some of the water out of the tub, then replaced it with hot water. The feeling was luxurious, and for the few hours she spent in the bathtub that afternoon, she almost forgot she was pregnant.

Several hours later, Miranda finally stepped out of the bath and toweled off. Looking in the mirror, she couldn’t deny how much her belly had grown in the past few weeks. She put on a white stretchy camisole that covered her belly completely, and slipped on her favorite pair of cotton boxer shorts. They were from the mens section at J. Crew, and they were Miranda’s secret fashion faux pas. Sure, La Perla lingerie was gorgeous, but she enjoyed sleeping in something comfortable, breathable, and easy-to-wash.

It was just past 1 PM. Andrea still had not returned, so Miranda sat down on the edge of her bed and groaned when she felt another pain in her belly. “You like it in the bathtub, didn’t you? Now go to sleep so I can rest,” she whispered to the tiny being inside her. Hoping to get some sleep herself, she curled up on the mattress, burrowing into the body pillow Andrea had bought her.

After an hour of trying to get comfortable and the baby’s lack of cooperation, she thought maybe getting up and moving around would help. She walked around the bedroom, but it seemed like the pain was getting worse—not better—so she decided to call Andrea and see when she would be getting back, and then maybe call Mary. Maybe just talking to someone would help distract her enough until the little one exhausted himself with all the kicking.

She headed downstairs where she left her phone, and when she was nearing the base of the stairs, she felt another tightness, this time accompanied by a slight ‘pop’ and gush of fluid between her legs.

“Oh god,” she gasped, reaching down and feeling the clear liquid between her legs. “Th—this can’t be happening.”

She hurried down the remaining stairs to the kitchen and dialed Andrea’s number. “Answer, answer, answer,” she whispered. Not hearing anything on the line, she looked at the screen and saw No Service. “Shit!” she cried. Looking out the window, she saw the dark clouds and heard the rain hitting the roof. 

Miranda picked up the landline phone, sighing in relief when she heard a dial tone. She scanned her cell phone to pull up Andrea’s number just as the young woman came through the front door.

“Andrea—” she called to her, freezing in place as a contraction quite literally took her breath away.

“Hey,” she said, setting her bags down on the kitchen island. “It’s so bad in town. Trees are down all over the road, and it’s raining so hard down in the clearing that you can’t see two feet in front of you!” she said. “Oh god.” She saw Miranda hunched over, one hand clutching her belly and the other grabbing the granite counter.

“Call Mary,” she said. “My water broke.”

Andrea quickly picked up the phone, knowing that it would be impossible for Mary to make it here in time. “Hi Mary, it’s Andy. Miranda is in labor. Yes… No, I just got back from the store. Yes…and her water broke.”

“Oh, honey, it will take me three hours to get to you in this storm. Just take a deep breath and relax. You can do this,” Mary said.

Andrea looked over at Miranda who was resting her head on the counter, and noticed some bright red blood streaming down her leg. “Um, she’s bleeding, too. Is that normal?”

“Andy, listen to me. You need to stay calm. I expect her incision from the cesarean has somehow popped open internally. You need to call an ambulance immediately and tell them she’s a VBAC. It will take them some time to get to you, so let’s give them a head start.”

“You’re not coming?”

“I will meet you at the hospital,” she said. “Call the ambulance. Make Miranda comfortable. Keep her hydrated, and keep her from pushing, as that could completely rupture her uterus. Stay with her and do not try to drive her yourself, no matter what she says.”

“Okay. Okay, I can do that,” Andrea said.

“What did Mary say?” Miranda whined.

“Um, that you are doing great. She wants you to stay hydrated and rest, and she’s on her way,” Andy said, hanging up the phone. She was fairly certain Miranda hadn’t noticed she was bleeding, so rather than add unnecessary worry, she calmly led Miranda over to the couch and pulled a few dark beach towels out from the linen closet. “I’ll be right back—I’m going to get you something to drink,” she said as she hurried back to the kitchen.

She quickly dialed 9-1-1 and prayed that someone would answer.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“Hi, there’s a woman in labor and she needs to get to the hospital right away. Her water broke, and she’s bleeding. Her midwife is three hours away, and she told me to tell you that she is a VBAC.”

“Okay, we’re dispatching the paramedics now, but it will be a while with the storm. Can you confirm your address?”

Andrea repeated the address and quickly ended the call, returning to Miranda’s side.

“This isn’t working,” she said, panting through another contraction. “It’s happening too fast. It’s too early,” she cried.

Andrea handed her a glass of water and she took a few sips.

“Ooohhhhh! God! It hurts so bad!” she cried.

“Just breathe,” Andrea said, sitting next to her and tracing circles on her back. “Deep breaths, Miranda. Blow out as you exhale.”

“I need to get up. I can’t sit—oooh!—like this.”

Andrea helped her to her feet and walked with her around the first floor. It seemed to be helping. The two latest contractions were manageable, and she was even able to have another full glass of water.

“I want to try the bathtub,” Miranda said. “That helped earlier.”

The bathtub was upstairs, but of course the woman knew that. So, Andrea just agreed and helped guide her towards the stairs.

As Miranda stepped onto the first stair, she felt another strong contraction and sank down to her knees. “Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ooooohhhh!” she cried.

“It’s okay, breathe through it. Keep breathing. It’s almost over,” she said. When Miranda sat back on her heels, Andy quickly grabbed the towels and a few pillows and returned, laying them out at the base of the stairs. She climbed behind the woman and sat, guiding her to rest between her legs.

“Andrea, thank you,” she said as she leaned back against the young woman’s body. Her forearms were resting on the woman’s thighs and she moaned quietly.

The young woman poured some water on a washcloth and applied it to her forehead as she gently kneaded her shoulders.

“I don’t want to lose this baby,” she cried. “Not after all of this.”

“And you’re not going to,” Andrea quickly said.

“No, it’s too early.”

“Sweetheart, I think you’re farther along than you thought.”

Miranda twisted around to look up at the young woman. “Did you just call me ‘sweetheart?’”

“Whoops, sorry. It slipped,” Andrea said.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she said, reaching up and brushing the woman’s cheek.

The two women stayed there like that for some time, anxiously waiting for help to arrive. Miranda was scared and worried that the baby wouldn’t survive, but Andrea was worried more about Miranda than anything else.

“Ohhh god!” Miranda gasped after nearly twenty minutes of regular contractions.

“What is it?”

“The baby moved. I think he’s—ohhh!—he’s coming out! He’s coming out, Andrea, help!”

“Okay, deep breath,” Andrea said, sliding out from behind her to come to the floor between the woman’s legs. “I’m going to take these off. Just close your eyes and focus on your breathing—don’t push,” Andrea said as she took off the boxer shorts.

She had never done this before, but that didn’t stop her from recognizing the top of the baby’s head pressing tightly against her opening.

“I can’t—I can’t stop it,” Miranda cried. “Ahh! Help!”

Andrea reached up and took her hands. “Look at me,” she said firmly. “You cannot push right now. Do you understand? Do not push.”

Miranda nodded weakly. In the distance, Andrea could hear the ambulance sirens.

“Hear that? Paramedics are coming, and they’re going to help you.”

“But the baby—it wants out,” Miranda said, not even wondering how or why an ambulance was coming. “I can’t—”

“I know, I know. The baby will be fine. Stay with me. It’s you I’m worried about,” Andrea said. She could tell the blood loss was affecting the other woman. “I don’t want to lose you,” she said, leaning over and kissing Miranda gently on the cheek.

“Aaaaaahhh!” she shrieked. “It’s coming out! The head, it’s there! I’m trying—I can’t stop it.”

“Okay, that’s okay,” Andrea said, returning to the spot between her legs. She reached up and clutched Miranda’s hand, squeezing it tightly. “Keep breathing, you’re doing great.”

“Oh! Oh! Ohh! Andreaaaaa!” she shouted.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Andrea reached out and caught the baby in her arms. She wiped the baby’s face with a towel and gently patted his back until he coughed and started to cry. “Hello, little man,” she said.

Miranda slumped back against the pillows. Andrea was concerned that the woman had passed out, but couldn’t do anything about it. She cleaned the baby as best as she could with the towel, making sure his mouth and nose were clear of any mucus, then wrapped him in a blanket. She took another blanket and draped it over Miranda, then carefully sat next to her, holding the baby on her chest. The baby’s umbilical cord was short, so she couldn’t move too far.

“Look, he’s perfectly healthy. A big, strong, baby boy,” she said.

Miranda’s eyes fluttered open and she weakly reached up to touch his face. “He’s okay,” she said. “He’s okay.”

“He’s perfect.”

Just then, the paramedics arrived, bursting through the door. “Ma’am, how are we doing?”

“Better,” Miranda said, gazing down dreamily at the baby boy on her chest.

“Good. We’re just going to check you out. What’s your name?”

“That’s Andrea, and I’m her friend Sarah,” Andrea lied.

One paramedic took the baby from her arms and, after clamping and cutting the umbilical cord, began cleaning him up while another helped Miranda onto the stretcher they brought inside.

“I’m going to run and grab you some clothes—anything else?” she asked. Miranda shook her head, so Andrea quickly ran upstairs to pack a small bag. In addition to underwear, pants, a bra, and a clean shirt, she grabbed Miranda’s moisturizer, toothbrush, and a pair of flip flops.

“Now, the roads are pretty bad with the storm, so I think we should all ride together,” the paramedic said. “Sarah, can we task you with holding the baby in the ambulance?”

“Of course,” she said, reaching out and taking the tightly swaddled child in her arms. He had finally stopped crying and looked hungry. As she focused on the tiny human, she could overhear the paramedics explaining to Miranda that they didn’t want her to deliver the placenta until they arrived at the hospital.

“I understand, but I do not have much control over that,” she hissed.

“Andrea, _sweetheart_ ,” Andrea said, grinning.

Miranda looked up and rolled her eyes.

“Are you going to pick out a name for this little man?”

“I thought we would just call him ‘little man’ his whole life,” she deadpanned. “No, I want to wait until I can hold him again,” she said.

The paramedics finished packing everything up, and they threw a few blankets over Miranda before wheeling her out. Once she was situated in the ambulance, the other paramedic led Andrea and the baby into the small seat in the back of the ambulance.

While the paramedics were busy securing the stretcher and connecting Miranda to some IV fluids and antibiotics, Andrea leaned over and brushed the woman’s cheek. “Hey,” she whispered. “You did great today—I am so proud of you.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you, _Sarah_ ,” the older woman replied, softly kissing Andrea’s hand. “Ohh,” she groaned.

“Andrea? Talk to us. What’s going on?” the paramedics asked. “Andrea? Andrea!”

 

* * *

 

_May 23 - County General Hospital, somewhere upstate New York_

 

Andrea nervously paced in the small waiting room. When Miranda lost consciousness in the ambulance, she was nearly hysterical and almost forgot about the newborn baby boy in her arms. At the hospital, they rushed Miranda into surgery and the nurses took the baby to be thoroughly checked out.

“Andrea? Honey, come here. Tell me what happened,” Mary said, walking up to her and hugging her. Andrea had never been so relieved to see a midwife.

Mary proceeded to ask what Miranda had decided regarding the baby, and honestly, Andrea wasn’t sure. When they had last spoken about it, Miranda was leaning towards keeping the baby and somehow having Andrea’s name listed as the birth mother. They hadn’t discussed details or logistics because, well, they thought they had more time. Andrea told Mary how she had given her name to the paramedics instead of Miranda’s, and the midwife seemed to think that was a good idea.

Andrea didn’t care too much about the finer details at the moment; she just wanted Miranda to be alright.

A nurse came up to Andrea. “Sarah? We’ve been calling for you for nearly ten minutes.”

“Oh! Sorry, I was just preoccupied—how is Mir, um, _Andrea_?” she asked.

“She’s out of surgery. It was too difficult to stop the bleeding, so the doctors had to perform an emergency hysterectomy. She’s very lucky, but I think she’s going to be fine. We’ll keep her under supervision for a few days, and she’ll have to take it easy at home for at least six weeks, but I think she will be just fine. You’re lucky you called the ambulance when you did. A few minutes lost and she might not have survived.”

Her heart sank as she thanked the nurse. “Can I see her?”

“Sure, I’ll show you to her room. They’ll bring her back once she starts to wake up.”

Andrea followed the nurse to the empty room that would be Miranda’s, and when she was finally alone, she broke down in tears. Over the past few months she had grown so close to Miranda, she couldn’t imagine her life without the woman. To know that she had come so close to losing her was overwhelming.

A short while later, a few nurses wheeled a groggy Miranda into the room, and after ensuring she was connected to the appropriate monitors, they quietly stepped out. Miranda was awake, but barely. It looked like she was fighting sleep with every muscle in her body.

“Miranda,” the young woman called, tears streaming down her cheeks as she approached the bed. She sat on the edge and reached over, hugging the older woman and kissing her gently on the cheek. “I was so scared,” she said, pausing to wipe her tears. “I didn’t know what to do. I thought I was going to lose you… But you’re okay. And the baby’s okay.”

“Yes, yes,” Miranda said, hugging her and kissing her cheeks. “We are okay. We’ll figure everything else out tomorrow,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind Andrea’s ear. “My angel,” she said, closing her eyes. 

“You must be exhausted. I’ll let you sleep, and I’ll just go back to the waiting room.”

“No…stay,” she said, before drifting back off to a drug-induced sleep.

Andrea smiled and pulled up the chair closer to the bed.

The next day, Miranda woke in a panic, calling out Andrea’s name.

“Hey, I’m here,” she said, rushing over to bedside. “How are you doing?”

Miranda reached for the young woman’s hand and squeezed. “Okay, I think.” Her eyes fixed on the bassinet on the other side of the room. “Can I see him?”

Andrea smiled and nodded, carefully picking up the newborn and bringing him over to his mother. “I was just about to give him a bottle when you woke up,” she said, carefully laying him in her arms. “I didn’t think you weren’t planning on breastfeeding, but the nurses said it would be really beneficial for him—at least for the next few days while you’re in the hospital.”

Miranda smiled at him and kissed him gently on the forehead. “Are you hungry, sweetie?” she asked as she reached behind her neck and untied the hospital gown. “My little baby boy who I’ve been dreaming about for twenty years,” she said. With very little assistance, the baby began nursing and reached his little hand up in the air.

Andrea quietly stepped out of the room to give Miranda some privacy and went in search of some caffeine. When she returned, Miranda was again struggling to stay awake, so Andrea quickly took the baby from her arms.

“What should we call him?” Miranda asked.

“You’re asking me?”

Miranda nodded. “Your name is going to be on his birth certificate, right?”

“What about Caleb?” Andrea said. “I always liked that name.”

A giant smile slowly spread its way across Miranda’s face. “Caleb was my father’s name, and I think it’s perfect. Caleb Michael.”

Andrea smiled and squeezed the woman’s hand. “Perfect. I will have Mary work on the paperwork while you get some rest.”

Meanwhile, Andrea finally was able to charge her cell phone and saw that she had two missed calls from Nigel, and a missed call and a text from Emily. Checking the message, she saw: _Can you reach Miranda? Urgent issue w/ C &C. -EC_

Andrea quickly texted Emily back: _Yes. Send me James’ number? -AS_

Emily responded with the number and Andrea quickly placed a call, not thinking of what time of day it was.

“Hello?”

“Hi, James? This is Andy. I’m Miranda’s assistant,” she said, cringing at that last part.

“Andy?”

“Andrea,” she corrected.

“Oh! Right. What happened? Is Miranda okay?” he asked. “She was supposed to Skype us last night and she didn’t, and we couldn’t get in touch with her.”

“She’s okay—”

“The girls were disappointed more than anything, but,” he paused and lowered his voice to a whisper, “Miranda told me about the baby, and I guess I just feared the worst.”

“Well,” Andrea said, taking a deep breath, “it was pretty close. She went into labor yesterday, and there was a really bad storm so it took the paramedics a while to get to us. She delivered a perfectly healthy baby boy, Caleb Michael, and then she started bleeding out. They had to do emergency surgery and remove her uterus, but the point is that she is okay.”

“Oh my god. You were there with her though?”

“Yes. Forgive me, but it’s been a blur. She’s exhausted and going in and out of sleep, but I did talk to her and she seems in good spirits,” Andrea said.

“Is she going to keep the baby?”

“I am not sure of the details, so you’ll have to ask her that. I do know that she will need the next two months to recover from the surgery, though.”

“Do you think she can give the girls a call later today? It can be quick—if she can just say something came up and she misses them, they should be fine,” James said.

“Um, yeah, we didn’t bring her phone—we left in such a rush. But I’ll figure something out.”

After talking to Mary, she realized this county hospital had very little in terms of records management. They never asked to see identification at all; in fact, Miranda’s chart only had a first name listed—no last name, no date of birth.

On the birth certificate, at Mary’s urging, they entered the name “Andrea White” as the birth mother. Mary explained that this would keep her from any future legal trouble for fraud or identity disputes.

When they returned to Miranda’s room, she noticed the bassinet was right next to the bed. Miranda was sitting up a little bit, with her arm reaching over and softly stroking the little boy.

“Hey, how are you doing?” she asked.

“I’m really sore,” Miranda said. “The doctor came by and explained what happened and what they had to do—I guess they told me when I woke up from surgery, but I didn’t remember.”

Andrea sat on the edge of the bed. “Can I get you anything?”

“No, but thank you. They’re going to remove the catheter tomorrow, and then I will certainly need some help getting around, but I am fine now,” Miranda said.

“So, we got the birth certificate filed with Caleb Michael Priestly as the child’s name, and Andrea White as the birth mother. You’ll need to contact your lawyer to have the official adoption drawn up, but for all intents and purposes, he’s yours.”

Miranda smiled as a tear fell down her cheek. “I know you didn’t sign up for this, but thank you for standing by me through it all.”

“It’s not over,” Andrea said. “You’re going to need to rest for the next two months, so you’re not getting rid of me that quickly,” she teased.

“Andrea, I was hoping to never get rid of you.”

The young woman’s eyes widened. She had been working so hard to ignore her feelings for the woman, hearing her say something like that was almost unbelievable.

“I have to tell my children something—at least until they’re old enough to know the truth—and I was hoping that you would still be willing to play along with the whole birth mother situation.”

“Oh, sure,” she stammered. “I, uh, didn’t think that you still wanted that.”

“Come here,” she said, motioning for the young woman to come closer. She reached up and cupped her cheek. “I would like Caleb’s birth mother to be involved in our lives for at least the next eighteen years. I would like _you_ , sweetheart, to be in my life for at least that long. Is that understood?”

“Um, sure, I guess I’m just a little confused,” she said.

Miranda pulled her closer and kissed her, square on the lips. It was brief, but there was no denying the feelings behind it.

“Yes,” Andrea said, smiling. “I don’t know what I was thinking, but yes, of course.”

Miranda smiled and laid back against the pillows. “We’ll figure everything out.”

“Oh, before I forget,” Andrea said. “James has been trying to reach you. He was wondering if you could give the girls a call—you missed their Skype date and they were worried.”

Miranda sighed. “I forgot all about that. Do you have his number? I’ll call now.”

Andrea pulled up his number and handed Miranda the phone.

“Hi, it’s me,” Miranda said.

“Mira, how are you? I was worried sick.”

“You’re at the office,” she said. She could hear the sounds in the background. “My little boy came a little early,” she said as she started to cry.

“But you’re okay? And the baby is okay?”

“Yes, yes, we are all fine, thanks to Andrea,” she said, looking up at her and smiling. “We named him Caleb Michael.”

Now she could hear James crying on the other end of the line. “Miranda, I’m so relieved that you’re okay, and so happy for you. This little boy doesn’t realize yet just how special he is.”

Miranda wiped her eyes. “I know. And James, since he is Caroline and Cassidy’s little brother, I really want them to spend time together, even if that means with you. You’re such a good father to them, and I know you would take such good care of Caleb.”

“Miranda, I would be honored.”

“That’s great. Can you tell the girls I called? And that I am so sorry but something really important came up? I’ll try the house tonight when you’re all home.”

“I will, and take care, Miranda.”

She ended the call and handed the phone back to Andrea. “I can’t wait to go home, so I can be with all of my babies,” she said, her lip curling up in a frown.

“The next few weeks will be over before you know it,” Andrea said. “Can I ask, why did you and James ever divorce? You seem to get along really well for a divorced couple.”

“We were just better apart than together. We had been through so much when we were trying to conceive, and we were always fighting and blaming each other, even after the girls were born. He blamed me for miscarrying Michael and wanted to try again for a son, but I was so overwhelmed with two little children and then my job, I more or less told him that if he wanted more children he would have to do that with someone else. I didn’t think he would take me seriously,” she added with a chuckle. “But, sure enough, the next day he told me he thought we should divorce. I was furious at him and kicked him out, and then maybe six months later, we laughed about how stupid it all was. I’m sorry that we had to put the girls through all that, but I think it worked out very well in the end.”

“You really are great coparents,” Andrea said.

“Thank you. That means a lot to me, coming from you.”

“So, what happens now?” Andrea asked.

“We will have to take things slowly as I heal, but I think we should probably practice that kissing, don’t you?”

Andrea grinned. “Oh, absolutely.”

 

* * *

 

_June - Somewhere in the Poconos, New York_

 

Miranda spent fourteen days in the hospital, five of which were spent bedridden—three when she first arrived, and two the following week when she had an infection. Today was their first day out of the hospital; Andrea was a nervous wreck, and Miranda was getting carsick.

The car came to a stop in the driveway just outside the garage. The older woman unclasped her seatbelt and reached for the door, but Andrea reached out for her hand and stopped her.

“He’s asleep. Let me take him inside like that in his carrier, and then I will come back for you.”

Miranda watched the young woman’s expression, and something warned her not to challenge her today. “Okay. But I am opening the door for some fresh air,” she said.

Andrea quickly took the carseat from the back of the car and carried it to the house, setting it down on the porch only when she needed to unlock the door. She situated the carrier on the floor next to the couch, then headed back to the car to help Miranda, who was fanning herself with the post-op folder from the hospital.

“Ready?” Andrea asked quietly, holding out her hand.

Miranda nodded and tucked the folder back into her bag, handing it to Andrea while she reached for the handle on the interior of the car. She slowly got out of the car with Andrea’s help, and after walking a few feet, she stopped and turned away from the young woman.

“What is it? Are you okay?” Andrea asked.

Miranda waved her hand and promptly wrapped her other arm around her waist in an attempt to still her stomach muscles.

Andrea took her hand and wrapped her arm around the woman. “Carsick?”

Miranda nodded. She squeezed Andrea’s hand as she tried to take a few deep breaths.

“Let’s go inside—it’s cooler, you can take this jacket off, and I’ll turn a fan on for you,” she said, gently leading the woman to the house.

Miranda took off her jacket and cardigan and carefully sat on the couch. Andrea brought her a glass of water and repositioned the fan so it was blowing directly on her and not the baby.

“I setup the crib and everything last night—it’s nothing fancy, but at least he’ll have a place to sleep,” she said. “I moved the big dresser out of your room and set everything up there in the corner, room darkening shaded, you know. But if you want to move it, or want to turn the second bedroom into a nursery, I can do that for you.”

“Did you get a baby monitor?” Miranda asked, her eyes still closed.

“Should come from Amazon tomorrow.”

“Where will you stay?” she asked.

“My stuff is still in the guest house, but I was thinking I’d stay here for the first few nights in case you need something.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Andrea. You’re staying here with us,” she said, sitting up and taking a drink of water. She looked over towards the stairs and rolled her eyes.

“I had a cleaning crew come in—they took care of everything,” Andrea said.

“I wasn’t even thinking about that,” Miranda said. “But I can imagine it was quite the mess. I have to use the bathroom, which is upstairs.”

“Give me a few minutes and I’ll help you. I’ll take Caleb upstairs to his crib. That way you can take your time.”

Miranda watched the young woman take the baby upstairs. Her baby, her little baby boy. She took a deep breath and pushed herself off the sofa. She set her glass on the kitchen counter, then headed for the stairs. Andrea met her, carefully and quietly supporting her as she took her time.

Upstairs, Andrea turned down Miranda’s bed and laid out a comfortable cotton night shirt. She also ran downstairs to grab the pain medication from Miranda’s purse, bringing it upstairs along with a bottle of water and a small plate of crackers.

When she returned, Miranda had already changed her clothes, and was now leaning over the side of the crib, gently stroking the little boy’s head. “I should have made him a bottle before coming upstairs,” she said. “Will you?”

“Oh, of course. I’ll be right back.”

“Not too warm—”

“I know,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

Miranda turned back to the crib just as Caleb was waking up. “Oh hello, my sweet pea,” she said, scooping him up in her arms. “You are such a sound sleeper, aren’t you?” She went to sit on the bed and grunted as pain shot through her abdomen. “Mommy has to be careful,” she whispered, kissing him gently on the forehead.

Andrea returned with a bottle and instead of handing it to Miranda, the woman handed her the baby. She happily sat in the chair near the crib and fed little Caleb, but she couldn’t help but worry about Miranda, who she saw taking a dose of pain medication before laying down. After feeding and burping the baby, she carefully took him into the other bedroom and laid on the bed with him for a while.

Here was this precious little human being, that six months ago, almost didn’t make it to this world. For six months, she didn’t think she’d even see this baby, let alone be able to spend time with him. But here they were—she was “legally” this baby’s mother, and the idea just brought a tear to her eye. After a while, she changed his diaper and laid him back down in his crib, fast asleep.

“Andrea.”

The young woman stopped in the doorway, casting a shadow across the room, across the bed. Miranda patted the mattress next to her and Andrea approached, carefully climbing onto the bed so as not to jostle the other woman.

“Darling—”

Andrea quickly cut her off, pressing a kiss to her lips and passionately seeking out her tongue. Miranda responded by tugging the woman closer, knowing she had limited range of motion because of the stitches in her abdomen.

When the young woman pulled away for air, Miranda, too, took a deep breath. “Andrea, darling,” she said. “I want to talk to you about something, something serious, okay?”

Andrea swallowed nervously. “Okay…”

“I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but I want to take your name off of Caleb’s birth certificate,” she said.

Andrea opened her mouth to speak, then promptly closed it. She was confused. Hadn’t it been Miranda’s idea? And now, what next, that she wants her to remove herself from the house? From her life?

“Say something.”

“I—I don’t understand.”

“Darling, it will be easier this way. Trust me.”

Andrea sat up in bed, ignoring the grimace on Miranda’s face at the bounce in the mattress. “Easier for who? You? So you can throw me out of your life and have less to clean up? I can’t believe this. I spent five months of my life…” she ran her fingers through her hair. “I should have known better than to trust you,” she said, climbing off the bed and marching out the door, slamming it behind her.

The sound woke the baby, so as Miranda struggled to get herself up out of bed, she had to listen to Caleb’s shrill screams. She heard the front door slam, and then the car engine starting as she picked up the baby and tried soothing him back to sleep. With one hand free, she carefully made her way down the stairs and located her cell phone inside her bag. She doubted the young woman would answer right now, so she sent a text message instead.

_Andrea, please don’t leave. I didn’t mean for you to take it like that. I need to finish explaining. -M x_

It felt like hours, pacing the kitchen with the baby and staring at the phone. She made a call to the townhouse, just to ensure the phone was getting a signal. Finally, her phone pinged with a response.

_Ok._

Just one word—two letters. Miranda prepared a bottle and grabbed a banana for herself, then climbed the stairs again, slowly and carefully. Upstairs, she changed the baby’s diaper, put a fresh set of pajamas on him, and gave him his nighttime bottle. So far, he was a perfect little human, eating and sleeping when he was supposed to, and mostly without complaint. When he finished the bottle, he was already half asleep, so it took very little effort to burp him and lay him down.

Miranda herself took a seat in the rocking chair, grateful it had arms she could use to ease herself into it. She drank a full bottle of water, ate a banana, then decided to text Andrea back.

_I meant what I said a few weeks ago—I want you in my life for at least the next eighteen years. I don’t think either of us was thinking straight that day. You don’t need to be on the birth certificate to play a role in our lives. In fact, it will be much easier for you if it’s not there. And I honestly don’t feel too great about my plans to lie to my children._

She sent the longer message and waited for a response. When she didn’t receive one after a few minutes, she tried again.

_I don’t need an answer now. It’s a lot to think about. But please, consider doing this with me for real, not under some falsely imposed circumstances. I want what’s best for you, and for me, and for my children—you must know that. I look forward to talking to you in the morning. Love, M_

And with that message sent, Miranda took another pain pill and went to bed. When she woke, there was sunlight streaming into the bedroom and she noticed a vase with fresh sunflowers at her bedside table.

She sat up quickly, forgetting about the bandages, then sank back as her muscles burned with pain. Slowly and carefully, she turned to her side, then pushed herself up. She took another pain pill, and saw a post-it on her cell phone: _text me when you wake up._

Miranda smiled and quickly sent a text message to the young woman, who appeared in the doorway no less than sixty seconds later.

“Where’s Caleb?” Miranda asked.

“Downstairs, in his new bouncer. I went to Walmart for a few things last night. Who knew you could buy flowers there?”

“Andrea, I—are you—” Miranda bit her lip.

“I’m still here. I needed some time to myself last night, but I came back and slept here in the guest bedroom. That’s why you didn’t hear Caleb wake up this morning. Do you want to shower first, or do you want breakfast?”

Miranda looked at her, confused.

“What?”

“Did you get my text messages last night? Both of them?”

“Yes. Why?”

“And you’re not upset, or you don’t want to talk?”

“I was a little upset, but it’s okay now—we can talk later. Are you ready for breakfast?”

Miranda smiled and nodded, feeling a little guilty for upsetting the young woman last night, and then taking her time with her today. But she could feel her stomach churning after all the pain medication on an empty stomach, so she thought breakfast was the right compromise.

Andrea held out her robe—Miranda insisted she get up out of bed herself, without assistance—and took her hand, squeezing gently before leading her down the stairs. It was beyond remarkable, the ease with which the young woman practiced forgiveness. Miranda realized she had a lot to learn from the young woman.

After spending some time with the baby this morning, she went upstairs to shower while Andrea laid him down for a nap. When she emerged from the bathroom, her hair was mostly dried and pulled back in a clip, and she was wearing a black racerback cotton dress. She had minimal makeup on, and looked gorgeous as ever.

“Hey,” Andrea said quietly.

“Shit!” Miranda said, jumping. She hadn’t expected to see the woman on the chair in the bedroom.

“Caleb just fell asleep. How was your shower?”

“It was wonderful, but now I am ready to go back to sleep,” she said with a sigh. 

Andrea stood from the chair. “I’ll lay down with you—we can go in the other bedroom if you’d like?”

Miranda shook her head and pointed to the bed. Andrea sat first, then Miranda joined her. She laid on her back and bent her legs, avoiding use of her abdominal muscles to move up closer to the head of the bed.

She exhaled when she reached her destination. “Can you hand me a pillow to put between my knees? I’m going to turn on my side,” she said.

Andrea took a pillow and placed it between her knees, watching as the woman grimaced and turned to her side.

“That was exhausting,” Miranda said.

Andrea smiled, turning on her side to face Miranda. “I want to apologize for storming out yesterday,” she said. Miranda opened her mouth to protest, but Andrea pressed a finger to her lips. “Please, let me finish. I was scared because my first reaction was that if you wanted me off the birth certificate, then there would be nothing to hold me to you. I wasn’t thinking straight.”

Miranda reached for her hand and gently squeezed.

“As I was driving, and I saw your first text, I realized that it wasn’t what you meant, and it wasn’t what I wanted, either. I don’t want you to have any sort of obligation to me because of a piece of paper, nor do I really want to contribute to a lie. I want to be here with you because,” she paused, “because I love you. There’s nothing more to it.”

At that, Miranda started to cry. “Darling,” she said.

Andrea leaned forward and kissed her on the lips before she could say anything more. “I know that in the next few months, this will be more challenging than I can begin to describe, but I want it. Do you understand that? I want to be here as you figure it out—as we figure it out. I can only hope you want the same thing.”

“Oh, Andrea. I do. I want that. I can’t even begin to imagine what I will tell my daughters, but knowing you will be here with me makes it less frightening,” she said.

 

* * *

 

_September - New York, New York_

 

In June, Miranda invited the girls up to the secluded cabin for the weekend, so she could introduce them to their brother. They didn’t seem as confused as she thought they would be about the baby. In fact, they were slightly more confused about her relationship with Andrea than anything. James was less than pleased that Miranda was so upfront with their children, but there was little he could do. He had promised to be supportive, even if that meant turning a blind eye to his ex-wife’s personal affairs.

When Caleb was three months old, she and Andrea returned to New York. They didn’t take the baby out of the house much, and if they did, Andrea or Cara or the girls were always with them. Somehow, the paparazzi never thought them interesting enough to photograph, so there was no speculation at all about her sabbatical—or about the little baby boy.

She had the baby’s birth certificate corrected to list Miranda Priestly and Stephen Tomlinson as the parents, and vowed to tell Stephen the truth if he ever asked. Chances were slim, though, as she had heard he moved to the Cayman Islands to live with his newest girlfriend.

Miranda’s publisher loved the manuscript draft she submitted—an advice book for how to make it in fashion, with a working title of _From the Lips of the Devil: How to win over the fashion world._ Miranda was disappointed that the book itself was nothing extraordinary, just some common sense advice. Regardless, her publisher was convinced it would be a bestseller.

Andrea was making a successful career for herself in freelance. She earned a few regular assignments at _The Atlantic_ , and she was even nominated for a few awards.

“Andrea,” Miranda called in a sing-song voice. “Are you almost finished?”

The young woman closed her laptop and smiled, looking up to see the woman standing in the doorway.

“Andrea, darling,” she said, “we have the house to ourselves tonight. James just picked up the girls, and Caleb is asleep.”

The young woman approached and wrapped her arms around her waist, laying her head on her shoulder as she softly nuzzled her neck. “It seems like ages ago when we were up in the middle of nowhere, doesn’t it?”

“It does, darling. And I don’t know why we didn’t take advantage of the peace and quiet while we had it.”

Andrea smiled. “I can’t believe you have to go back work in a few weeks.”

“I know. Darling, I was thinking, maybe tonight—” she pulled back and met the young woman’s eyes.

Andrea’s eyes widened and she smiled. “Miranda, that sounds—”

“Shut up. Just, shut up,” she said, pushing her out of the room and towards the bedroom.

They stumbled into the bedroom. While Miranda shut the door, Andrea climbed onto the bed. Miranda was right behind her, reaching for Andrea’s shirt and pulling it off over her head. She pushed her back into the mattress and kissed her ferociously.

Andrea broken the kiss and reached down to unbutton her jeans. While she wiggled them off, Miranda began unbuttoned her blouse and tossed it aside, quickly stepping out of her skirt until she was just in her underwear and a silk camisole. Andrea pulled her down and guided her hand between her legs.

Miranda had brought the young woman to pleasure before, and knowing what she liked, it didn’t take much to send her over the edge. Miranda laid on her side, gently stroking the young woman’s body as she recovered from her orgasm.

Several minutes later, Andrea turned to the woman and gently cupped her cheek. “Talk to me, okay? Tell me what feels good or what doesn’t—can you do that?”

Miranda nodded and kissed her gently. “I’m nervous. What if I can’t—or if I don’t feel anything?”

Andrea wrapped her arm around the woman and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. “It’s okay, it’s just me. You are such an incredibly beautiful woman, and I love you so much already—none of this matters at the end of the day,” she said, tucking the woman’s hair behind her ear. “I want to make you feel good, so you tell me what that is. It doesn’t have to be about sex,” she reminded her.

The older woman covered her eyes with her hand. “I don’t think I can do this. I’m sorry.”

“My god, I love you,” Andrea whispered as she kissed her forehead, her cheek, her chin, her neck. She continued trailing kisses down her body, pausing to suck on her nipples through the silk camisole. She continued moving down her body, pressing kisses to her hip, her thigh, the inside of her knee, and the top of her foot. “Miranda,” she whispered, slowly making her way back up the other side of her body. With her lips on the inside of the woman’s thigh, she looked up and met her eyes, seeking permission to go further.

Miranda nodded and reached down to slip her lacy underwear off. She spread her legs a little wider so Andrea could comfortably fit between and she gasped when she felt the woman’s lips against her flesh, kissing her so intimately.

Andrea was surprised to find Miranda so wet, but regardless, she kept things gentle until she could gauge the other woman’s reaction.

Miranda was generally quiet whenever they were intimate, and this was no different. Andrea pulled away and crawled up, pressing her lips to Miranda’s. A moan escaped the editor’s lips as she tasted her own juices on the young woman.

“Oh, Andrea,” she gasped.

“Did that feel good?” the young woman asked.

Miranda nodded. “More,” she whispered.

Andrea smiled and crawled back down, this time using her fingers to apply pressure in acircular motion to the woman’s clitoris.

Miranda’s eyes were closed and her back was arched as her body erupted with little gasps and quiet moans. After a while, she relaxed into the mattress and turned to her side, burying her face in a pillow.

“Are you okay?”

The woman nodded, but it was clear she was crying.

Andrea crawled up behind her and held her, softly kissing her neck and whispering reassurances.

Miranda turned around to face her, taking her face between her two hands. “That was— _you_ are incredible,” she said, kissing her. “I’ve never experienced anything like that. I don’t know if it’s because you’re _you_ or a result of the surgery or what, but it was overwhelming and just—” She paused and shook her head. “I cannot imagine my life without you. I’ve never felt that way about someone before—not even my own children. I can’t imagine where I’d be if you hadn’t suggested this sabbatical.”

Andrea smiled and kissed her. “Well, lucky for you, you don’t have to worry about that.”

 

 

The end.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Found an outline for this on my computer and as part of my 2016 goals, I finished it. #finishwhatyoustart


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